Eurhythmy
by Andrometamorphose
Summary: She was beautiful in the way that apricots only last for a season and a half, part transcendental etherealness and part corporeal humanity.


I think I like this piece.

I've read it out loud and it's just...I dunno; it's nice.

I tried making Sasuke the lovesick one and Sakura The One Who Got Away -I reversed their roles, if you know what I mean. I also put it in Sasuke's POV just for the challenge.

Hope you like it. :

* * *

**Eurhythmy**

_In the summer you brought back beautiful gifts,_

_I wanted to give you something, but found only_

_The drifting sky,_

_Can you wear it?_

_The Snow Fox__, by _Susan Fromberg Schaeffer

i.

She was beautiful in the way that apricots only last for a season and a half, part transcendental etherealness and part corporeal humanity, glamorous noise and shivering pain, wrapped in yellowed sheets and shadowed dreams.

"_Be mine_," she had whispered, beckoning in all her lucid glory.

I had followed.

_you don't give me_

_rings or_

_diamonds but_

_your copper kisses_

_and absent_

_morbidity_

_-they are worth it_

ii.

I pursued her relentlessly, following her over and over again, falling for her over and over again.

She wandered the graying hallways, quick-footed, leaving behind a swirl of dust and broken butterfly-cobwebs, leaving behind me.

I chased, footsteps ringing _thump-da-dump_ down the concrete and stone.

I was always behind her, just a foot or two, and she would never look behind.

And when I was a hairs-breadth, a wingspan, a cry and a whisper away from her, she would stop, and I would listen to her smile amidst the dim autumn sun showers and crumbling walls.

"_Be mine_," she would murmur again, and then she would run, crisp silhouette bright against the million doorways and endless corridors.

And I would run.

She never turned around.

_let's fall_

_because i'm immune to gravity_

_and you just don't care_

iii.

One day, she stopped running.

I had looked at her, confused, but she merely knelt down.

"_I'm tired_," she breathed out, and I nodded.

"_Let's stop_," she began, "_let's just stop and let's just stay here_."

I stared at her.

"_You don't understand, do you_?" Her voice cracked, and she was silent.

She got up, and she started running.

I chased after her.

"_Be mine_," she cried in my arms, the first time she fell, over and over again.

"_You're mine_," I replied, over and over again.

And I would fall for her some more, knowing that it would never happen, that _we_ would never happen.

We were already given our chance long ago.

We had already fallen long ago.

We kept on running.

_i think i've finally_

_discovered_

_something better than_

_love_

_when you_

_cradle_

_me_

_asleep_

iv.

I don't know when we started forgetting why we ran; I just remember the absence of seeing her back, her hair streaming down, the whites of her ankles glimmer-glittering in the sun, and the curve of the nape of her neck.

And suddenly, I was the one in front; I was the one ahead of her.

The sun burning a hole into the moonless sky, slowly scorched my eyes.

I found I could not stop seeing the sun, even with my eyes closed as I ran.

Eventually, I became accustomed to her fluttering breaths behind me, tickling my hair.

And just as inevitably, I realized that her silhouette, these arms and legs and those dove ankles and that swan neck and this back –they had all shielded me from the too-bright horizon, a future in which we had no part of.

And I understood her.

I was tired.

_but you flinch at_

_my touch and i_

_suddenly believe what_

_you said that_

_love can never be_

_perfect without_

_pain_

v.

I kept running, but I slowed down, and the empty corridors and hallways seemed to stretch on between the wide-open expanses of sky.

The doors were open, but our eyes were closed.

I wanted to fill in the gap between us with my arm and her fingers, to enfold her in the space between my time and hers.

"_Are you tired_?" She asked again.

I nodded.

And I saw a flash of those arms and legs and that curve of the nape of her neck and those white ankles and her back all over again.

I heard her smile, a crack of dawn and a snap of twilight.

And I knew, just as I knew we would finally stop running, that no one, not even Marlowe with his shepherd's poem and Raleigh with his nymph's reply and Frost with his divided roads and Cummings with his raindrops and boys and girls and Dickinson with her words and bones would ever, _ever_ be able to describe that moment.

It was the moment we fell in love.

It was the moment we realized that it would never happen again.

It was the moment we stopped running.

_i would be okay_

_with the silence_

_and your dry kisses_

_if my breathing weren't_

_so loud_

vi.

And after a thousand suns and a million words, I was starstruck.

The flick of her wrist, the delicate arch of her ear, the shimmer of her breathing –I was in awe.

"_Why do you stay with me?"_ She questioned one night, below the sparkling sky and above the emerald grass.

"_You're all I have_," I replied.

She turned away from me.

"_I shouldn't be here."_

She looked pointedly at her evanescent-transparent-lucid arm.

I looked away.

"_But you are," _I stated, "_and I am as well."_

"_I'm dead_," she protested.

"_I'm alive_," I argued.

"_I can't run anymore_," she sighed, and clasped my fingers, hers running over mine.

"_I still have your ring,"_ I whispered.

"_I can't run."_

"_We can still walk."_

It rained that night, and Raleigh's nymph would have been proud.

_the wide-open_

_spaces_

_between your mouth_

_and mine_

_are delicious_

vii.

We didn't walk; we just lay there, in the middle of the plaster and blue sky.

She wanted it to storm.

I would have rather that it drizzled.

We were granted neither, and warm breezes caressed us into infinity.

That night, she was aglow.

I was asleep.

We were dying.

She was already dead.

And I was following her, always behind.

_i knew that_

_this was love_

_when I wanted to_

_destroy the_

_world_

_all for you_

viii.

"_I'll be your Catherine,"_ she murmured one night, "_and you'll be my Heathcliff. And we'll haunt this earth forever, together."_

I smiled.

"_Darling, you're already haunting this earth."_

Her frown sliced up the silence.

"_I don't want you to leave."_

I shook my head and comforted her.

"_I'll always be behind you."_

That night, I dreamt I ran.

_i think it's funny how_

_i manage to get_

'_ravage' and_

'_ravish' mixed_

_up –_

_will you_

_ravage me?_

ix.

"_You're so pink you're blue_," she stated as she played with my mussed hair.

I woke up to her gentle sighing and allowed her to do as she pleased.

"_Because I'm yours_," I replied simply.

She stared at me for a moment, long enough for a moth's kiss and a dragonfly's hum, and I saw how green-emerald-saccharine her eyes were.

"_Be mine_," she whispered.

I chased her amidst the flowers and broken butterflies.

That day, I was the shepherd, and she was my Raleigh.

_hello_

_i think_

_we're_

_getting there_

x.

I think I'm starting to breathe slower, walk slower, and dream slower.

The wind is chilly and settles in my bones, but she is as beautiful as ever.

There was a time when I would have done anything to die.

I'm scared now.

I don't want to lose my given chance.

She's already lost hers.

And if I die, I'm not so sure I'll haunt this endless breadth of bare sky with her.

I want us to stay the same.

But alas, there are only twenty-four hours in a day.

_we are completely and totally_

_in love_

_and we cannot help that_

xi.

She rests her head in my lap today.

I think this is what contentment feels like.

_together we are your liaison_

xii.

I'm so tired I can hardly watch her bend down and lie next to me.

I close my eyes, and I know that it is time.

Our hands are clasped, and my ring is etched into hers.

The whites of her ankles and the curve of the nape of her neck follow as my heart wears out.

It is tired of running.

I am tired of beating.

I leave Marlowe and Raleigh behind with the approaching storm.

The flowers wither.

_they are beautiful and_

_we can't help _

_this_

xiii.

I see her running ahead of me and she is beautiful amongst the cataclysm of this world

She is beautiful in the way that apricots only last for a season and a half, part transcendental etherealness and part corporeal humanity, glamorous noise and shivering pain, wrapped in yellowed sheets and shadowed dreams.

"_Be mine_," she whispers, beckoning in all her lucid glory.

I follow, my luminous-clear-transparent hand warm in hers.

It is fitting; she had always been ahead of me in life.

In death it is the same.

It is the same.

Maybe this is what love is.

I think this is it.

And so we fall, over and over again, amidst the glowing sky and eroding walls in this endless building and too-bright horizon as the whites of her ankles lead the way again.

_That summer and this life and that death –I am moonstruck. _

Reviews?


End file.
